


Monopoly

by in_fatuated



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5845411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_fatuated/pseuds/in_fatuated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen entertains a different lady every night.</p><p>There is even a roster system in place to manage the ladies in queue, and the Inquisitor has decided that she wants a taste too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

His office is drafty and cold, largely thanks to the hole in the roof that he has yet to fix. Still, it is a vast improvement from the tent he used to camp in back at Haven, and she does not complain.

This is not her first time with him, and Maker willing, it will not be the last. The Commander may not be the most eloquent, romantic, sensitive and loving man, but he is mind-shatteringly skilled under the sheets and exceptionally handsome. She is more than happy to overlook the lack of commitment from his part in return for a night in his company every other month.

She makes her way up the ladder, and heads for the small nightstand by his bed. The nightly sessions are like clockwork - he is always absent from his tower at the appointed time. The lady of the night consumes a tincture to prevent unwanted "surprises", neatly laid out on a tray with a small pitcher of water to ease the liquid down. Then, she is free to lay down in his bed to wait, or take matters into her own hands to prepare herself for him if she is particularly impatient.

She counts to ten, and ever precise, he appears at the top of the ladder. The rising moonlight lights his hair like a beacon and she finds her breath hitching in anticipation. She will never cease to be amazed at how beautiful he is. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of her - bare and laid out over his sheets, sheds his armour with agile fingers, and she soaks the spot under her with want.

Even before Cullen takes his place between her spread thighs, she is already making plans to list her name in queue again. Then, all thoughts flow out the window and all she can do is grasp his sheets and scream his name to the heavens.

* * *

The Inquisitor squinted at her advisors. The Spymaster and the Ambassador were unfailingly  fresh-faced as always, despite the ungodly hour in the morning.

Cullen, on the other hand, was looking less put-together. His usually slicked back hair was mussed and tousled, the bags under his eye were more pronounced, and she was certain a piece of his armour was missing - though try as she might, she failed to recall which part exactly. But it was the smugness on his face that made her suspicious.

The Inquisitor had heard rumours of her Commander's exploits. She had not given them much weight at first, as he has always been the epitome of professionalism and kept his distance from the fawning ladies in Skyhold.

But certain events had her reconsidering if there was some truth to the gossip. His unavailability after hours every night, the knowing grins on countless women's faces and tittering that follow him as he passed by, the way he firmly avoided any prolonged contact with the opposite gender in daylight and kept them strictly at arm's length.

And lastly, the final puzzle in the jigsaw, the bolt in the hole, was in the letter she found under Harding's missives from an unnamed lady (as the Inquisitor deduced from the feminine writing), detailing her remarkable night with the dashing Commander of the Inquisition.

It was from there that the Inquisitor discovered his preference for elves and humans (as Harding had lamented) and the heights to which a lady could praise a man's name after an outstanding performance in bed. She had no idea when this system started, or  _how_ it came to be, but she was not about to stick her nose in her advisors' personal lives.

So she merely quirked an eyebrow in amusement at the time, and brushed it off without a second thought.

But the tales kept coming and extolling his talents, and she began to picture him _doing_ the things they said he could do, and paid closer attention to his _very_ kissable lips and firm jawline and broad shoulders and straining biceps. She started evaluating at every woman in Skyhold - random scouts and messengers who hid under their hoods, Flissa, Bonny Sims, female templars, recruits - have they all graced his bed already? Was she missing out? Had  _Leliana_ visited him before, or Maker forgive her for thinking this - Josie?

She found that she could no longer ignore his rugged good looks and suddenly, the closeness of his presence at the war table started to become distracting, the brush of his shoulder every time he leaned over to pick up a report caused her skin to flame, the timbre of his voice rolled over her in delicious waves and  _everything_ he did seemed suggestive to her.

She could not very well  _ask_ them what he was like, she would have to find out herself if she wanted to know if the tales were true.

She jerked back to the present when he caught her eye and smirked. Josephine was appraising her with a concerned gaze. "Yes," she croaked, not knowing what the question was, if there even was one.

Cullen's smirk became a full-blown grin and it was then and there that the Inquisitor made up her mind.

She wanted her name in the queue. Reputation be damned.

She wondered if she could use her title to speed things up a bit - for example, right to the top of the list.

And if she would be too aroused to laugh at him when he realized who it was that lay spreadeagled on his bed. Would he be stricken into silence and usher her out? Would he embrace the challenge and her willing self without hesitation? Would he be surprised, or would he have been expecting it? The Herald of Andraste herself, in the flesh, waiting to be taken and conquered.

Cullen was still watching her when she looked away from Josephine. She returned his smile politely, and listened attentively as he went on and on about some Inquisition business, completely unaware of the scheming taking place in her mind.

She licked her lips in delight. The Inquisitor  _wants_ , and so she shall  _have._


	2. Two

The 'book keeper' was an unassuming, small waif of an elf. Her hood was pulled low over her face, so the Inquisitor was unable to tell if she was blonde or brunette or bald. It had taken her three straight days of observing the movements of the women of Skyhold before detecting this particular scout's presence.

It was to her credit that she knew practically every single agent and scout of Leliana's, for it was easier than it should be to spot the solitary figure leaning against the tavern wall. She almost blended in with the background, but the countless and unrelenting stream of ladies stopping by her station for a quick chat at all hours of the day led the Inquisitor to believe she found the right person.

Which was a relief, because she was  _this_ close to paying Varric a visit coupled with the threat of bodily harm to dig out what he knew of this arrangement.

Drawing her courage with a deep breath, she spared a moment to be curious if Cullen knew of the effort taken by the ladies to coordinate his nightly visits, or if he simply accepted that the continuous appearance of women in his tower and lack of catfights over him were part and parcel of being such a handsome, eligible man.

The Inquisitor saw the scout's eyes flick up to her and down again in a split second. If possible, she seemed to camouflage with the tavern wall even more. _I'd better get to her before she disappears completely,_ she mused and silently complimented Leliana on her scouts' training.

"Blackbirds for the pie?" she said to the elf. A less observant person may have missed the scout's surprise, but it was there in the slight jerk of her wrist before a slender hand slipped into a pocket to retrieve an innocent looking notebook. Then again, if she didn't have such sharp ears and eyes, she would have never found out the secret phrase. The ladies of Skyhold were more subtle than anyone gave them credit for.

"Ship arrives at the tenth bell, sharp. Up the ladder, there will be a potion you will need to take. Once you've had your pie, leave  _only_ via the west exit." Then, she referred to her notebook and flipped a few pages. "Stock comes in a fortnight, Your Worship," she said.

"I feel like pie, tonight," the Herald persisted.

The elf lifted her gaze to meet hers, and narrowed her eyes when she saw the stubborn look on her face.

"Nightingales need to sing too. Tomorrow, is the earliest I can arrange. The other sparrows will not be too happy about it."

Ah, so Leliana  _does_ visit the Commander. And being directly under her command, the scout would not budge her name down for even the Inquisitor herself.

She pursed her lips, displeased. She had waited  _three_ days to infiltrate this illicit ring, and it had felt like forever - with Cullen strutting around the training yard like a gloating peacock. That man even had the gall to show up shirtless yesterday, and it did not ease her predicament at all.

Her patience was running out, and she was banking on finally being able to feast on her Commander that night.

But this had to remain a secret. She was not willing to threaten the scout over this, and have an angry Leliana discover what their beloved Herald was up to.

"Very well," she acquiesced, careful to hide her impatience from the scout's watchful gaze, "Tomorrow will do. The sparrows will have to deal with it."

The scout nodded once, and scribbled something in her book. The Inquisitor eyed the book warily, knowing that if she managed to steal that away, she would have the dirt on the majority populace of Skyhold ladies. And now, her own name resided in there.

She had turned to go, but paused for a moment to say, "Blackbird pie is a secret guilty pleasure of mine."

"Understood, Herald." This time, the scout's nod held a different, deeper nuance to it, and she knew that her secret would be safe. Besides, the elf seemed like an accomplished rogue, and that had probably lent her credence to become the 'book keeper', so the Inquisitor pushed the niggling worry from her mind.

Now, she should see to Inquisition business before her advisors caught wind of her slacking off and descended on her like a pack of harpies.

* * *

  

If Dorian saw her now, sneaking into the Commander's office like a thief in the night...she would never hear the end of it.

His tower was dimly lit, no doubt to provide a sort of cover for his visiting paramours. The Inquisitor glanced about curiously, she had never been into his office after sundown, and the shadows cast by the upper beams danced around her eerily. It was probably just nerves. She swallowed her fear and clambered up the ladder. If the scout was to be believed, Cullen would be here soon.

Everything was as she had been told. The tray with the phial of potion sat innocently by his bedside. Who prepared these? The elf? Or Cullen himself?

She held up the little bottle to the candle, and before she could think twice, uncorked it and emptied every drop of it. She grimaced as the murky grey liquid slid down her throat and hurriedly washed it down with a glass of water.

The necessities  now taken care of, she sat gingerly on the corner of his bed and contemplated what she should do next. Should she strip herself bare and lay back - presenting herself to him in all her naked glory? She choked slightly at the thought and shivered - whether from anticipation or the chill, she could not be sure.

But if she waited for him, fully garbed, he might think she was here on business. That would be the last thing she wanted. Besides, she did not want him misunderstanding her purpose of being there and end the night with him politely escorting her out the door.

So she quickly unbuttoned the many buttons on her unflattering tunic and shrugged it off her shoulders. She could feel the pinpricks of cold dotting her arms, but steadfastly ignored them. Her hands shoved her leggings down impatiently, and dove into his bed to wrap his sheets around her.

Maker, it was freezing. She was shivering like a skinned nug in the snow.

Her hands hovered above her breast band...should she? Was she really doing this?

She chewed on her lips in consternation, unable to make up her mind. She was not the most well-endowed woman around, or the slimmest. Her skin was far from unblemished, dotted with scars and callouses from the battlefields and long horserides. Freckles adorned the expanse of her shoulders. She was a far cry from the buxom ladies and lithe females with their snowy white complexion and perfect coloring. She wasn't even certain he would not object to her being here.

A creak sounded below her and she jumped.  _Shit,_  he was already here. Her trembling fingers worked on the cloth in a panic, and she threw her wrappings to the other side of the bed. Her smalls followed quickly, and right as heavy footsteps begun climbing the ladder, the Inquisitor abandoned all insecurities and flung his covers away from her.

When the Commander's head finally popped up from below, he was greeted by the sight of the Inquisitor splayed wantonly across his sheets in all her glory.

She would have giggled at the gobsmacked look on his face were she not struggling to keep her shivering at bay.

"H-Herald?"

"Co-commander. It's f-freezing...in h-here," not the sexiest thing to have said, but the cold was really getting to her head.

"Maker's balls!" he pulled himself up with impressive speed and before she knew it, he had wrapped her up in a warm bundle.

"No! Stop, I don't want to be warm like this!" she elbowed and pushed at the restrictive sheets.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. She could almost see the wheels spinning in his head, but the cogs did not click just yet.

"It's my turn tonight, Cullen."

His mouth dropped open again. "I...what?"

This was not how she had planned it. In her fantasies, he had ravished her immediately after getting over his surprise. Instead of staring at her as if she had grown an extra head.

"Is there a problem, Commander?" she asked archly.

He shook his head, the shock slowly easing away and returning him the use of his facilities. A wicked grin tugged at the corner of his lips, his scar stretching along with it, and the Inquisitor felt all her doubts being engulfed in a sudden rush of desire.

"Not at all, my lady." He had his breastplate and pauldrons off in record time, and his tunic and breeches joined his armour on the floor in a  blink of an eye.

She gaped. Oh, yes _please._

She had seem him shirtless, had committed the rippling of his arms and the defined ridges of his chest to memory. She had seen the happy trail start from his belly button leading down beneath his pants and had spent nights envisioning what waited below. She had no need to wonder, now. Her imagination had not done him justice.

Cullen was standing stiff at attention. He was impressive. It jutted thickly from the base and curved all the way up to his stomach. The head was well-rounded and looked absolutely delectable. As he strode toward her, she could not take her eyes off the each sway and jerk his cock made with every step he took.

Her mouth watered. She wanted to taste him, she wanted to envelop that beautiful length with her hot mouth and lick every inch of that bulbous tip. At the same time, her core was tingling madly with  _want_ to be taken and ravaged and plundered by the strong male specimen currently stalking toward her like a predator.

She squirmed involuntarily, rubbing her thighs together to slake her lust. It was all for naught. As he loomed above her, tall and broad, her legs spread apart automatically and she reached for him to pull him down to her.

Cullen obliged her readily. His scorching kiss a shocking change from the cold, swallowing her gasp. His hands roamed across her body - trailing gently around the curves of her breasts, his finger pads drew circles around her nipples, his thumbs pressed beneath her jaw as he tilted her head up to deepen the kiss.

Her breaths were coming in ragged pants now. Every where he touched seemed to send jolts of pleasure to her dripping center. When he spread his palms to cover her belly, she arched upwards, aching for more of his touch, his lips, his tongue.

Cullen settled himself above her, knees on either side, never once breaking contact with her lips. His fingers flicked her nipples without warning and she cried out, unprepared for the heat that flared up within her. She began undulating her hips against his groin, the weight of his cock rested between her legs tantalizingly. Further, and further, she moved, needing to feel it press against her. Cullen rumbled with low laughter, "Impatient, are we?"

"Don't tease, Commander," she ordered in a voice dripping with lust.

"Tell me what you want, Inquisitor." His hands were everywhere but  _there_ and his lips suckled every inch of her skin but neglected the hardened tips of her breasts.

She did not bother trying to form words but used both her hands to direct his mouth to a flared nipple. She could almost  _hear_ him smirk before a wet pressure latched itself to her, and she rewarded his ardour with a shuddering moan.

" _Yes_ ,  _yes,"_ she chanted, lifting her hips to lock her legs around him. The sudden shift had him centered right where she wanted him, and a quick jerk had his throbbing cock sliding across her wet pussy and came to rest on her belly. She cried out his name again, and heard him cursing in response. The hands that cupped her other breast and curved around her thigh burned into her skin.The Inquisitor gave his blonde locks a final tug before reaching under him to wrap her small fingers around his length. It was already slick from her own need, and he grunted at the sudden warmth.

She boldly directed his tip to her pulsating opening, and felt him spread her wide open. His tip penetrated her, before he withdrew to a hail of curses exploding from her. "Patience, my sweet," he pressed a kiss on her forehead. But his own breathing was labored and his muscles corded with the strain of going slow.

Again, he pushed into her, going slightly deeper. Each entry coated him with juice and he liberally spread the wetness around. Still, she couldn't accommodate him all at once. Cullen moved back and plunged two fingers into her. The Inquisitor screamed beneath him, incoherently mumbling as he finger fucked her. When he was sure she was ready, Cullen poised once more at her entrance, and rubbed at her clit before thrusting into her with one smooth move.

She shrieked and bucked wildly at the invasion of his girth. He knew what she needed and worked his cock deep and hard into her. She  _needed_ this. The many things she needed to do, the missions she had to undertake, fights she needed to win melted away in a frenzy of lust. She  _needed_ the hard fucking he was giving her, the pull of his shaft as he withdrew and the delicious drag of her passage as he plunged back in.

She lost track of the number of times she clenched and came around his cock, screaming and grasping like a crazed banshee, nails digging into his bed and tearing at his sheets in her attempt to ground herself to some measure of reality. She felt as if she was losing her mind. All that mattered was the way he made her world spin and explode and tilt and  _fuck_ she was coming  _again_ , and he still wasn't slowing down.

His muscles bunched with each thrust and his sweat dripped onto her, slicking their skin. But she did not care. Her eyes flew open (she did not remember closing them) and the first thing she saw was his dark, piercing gaze fixated on hers.

Saw him glance at the tray with the empty phial and with a final violent pump he came deep in her, hot spurts jetting from his engorged member and filling her insides with warmth. Her entire torso lifted up from the bed as she shattered again.

"Andraste's mercy," he huffed, rolling away from her once her tremors subsided.

She smiled at him, feeling awfully shy at that moment, "Are you disappointed?"

"What?" he turned to face her, "Not at all, Herald."

She lightly kissed him, appreciating the sight he presented - ripped and tightly packed abs shifting beneath tanned skin. Then, remembering the scout's instructions, she gave the crook of his shoulder a last nuzzle and reluctantly slipped out of his bed. She no longer felt chilled, not after Cullen fired her up like that. The man in question had already begun to doze off.

Silently, she left via the west exit as instructed, suspiciously deserted with the regular patrol nowhere in sight.

Tomorrow, she would pay the elf another visit. Maybe with some of Sera's famous cookies as to hasten the process. The next time could not come soon enough.


	3. Three

Josephine is sweet - from her ruffles and ribbons to the dainty ring on her tiniest toe. She is also demure, always bashful and reserved, peering up at Cullen from beneath gently fluttering lashes.

For all the words and phrases she employs in her playground of diplomacy, she is relatively quiet in his chambers. Her jet black hair twirls all the way down and curves in at her waist, the only times she lets herself be seen with it loose and flowing.

She trails her ever-present quill along his abs, teasing him - muscles rigid and tense with restraint as the feather sighs over his skin. She follows the path with her light, candy kisses. Every touch of hers is gentle, every swipe of her tongue is soft. Even the feel of her velvety heat encasing him, when he _finally_ sheathes himself all the way in, makes his teeth ache at the sweet friction they create together.

But he doesn't miss the way her toes curl or the sinking of nails deeper into his flesh when his fingers tighten around her throat; the soundless scream that escapes when he drives into her a little too forcefully.

The modest ambassador has her own dark secrets.

She peaks in a cacophony of breathy moans and appreciative whispers, the rippling of her sweet core around him gives her away. He knows this well, just like how he _knows_ each woman he has been with and the right buttons to push to heighten their pleasure.

He knows that when she falls completely silent and her caramel skin flushes even darker, that she has just experienced the greatest bliss known to womankind.

So he never takes offense. Every lady is different.

When it's over, she dresses. The rustling of silk is all that he hears. She leaves with a soft _good night_ , and he doesn't mind.

Sometimes, this is what he needs. A little quiet has never harmed anyone.

* * *

 

The Inquisitor appeared the next night. Cullen went to work without hesitation this time. He licked and sucked and teased and pulled at her clit and made her question how she ever resisted him as white bursts of nothing fill the back of her eyelids.

They soared together, begging and pleading. It was furious and hot, over too soon for her liking.

He heaved himself off the Inquisitor with a grunt and she whimpered as he slipped out of her. He came to rest beside her, his strong arms cuddled her still-quaking body close.

"Hell and damnation," she whispered, still barely sensible from the spiraling high he sent her to. "What does a lady have to do to see you again tomorrow?"

"I'll be here, Herald. Anything you need."

"I meant...at  _night_ , Commander. The length of time in between is not cutting it for me."

He looked at her then, slightly taken aback. She laughed, "Do not tell me that this is the first time a lady has requested an encore?"

Cullen practically smouldered, sending shivers down her spine. "The repeat performance usually happens almost immediately after, my lady."

Her voice, when she spoke next, was wantonly husky, and she would have died of shame if this conversation had taken place before their electrifying performance. Now, Cullen had seen her writhe with desire beneath him, had made her scream his name with abandonment, and seen to it that her unquenchable lust was finally sated. She no longer had to maintain an illusion of propriety in front of him.

She shifted in his arms and brought a finger to his muscled chest. A slight pressure had her nail making indents in his skin and she could see his already hard shaft twitch at the sensation.

She grinned wickedly and teased, "You are aware of the roster system, I suppose?"

Cullen's reply was a curt, "Yes." He did not deign to elaborate, ever the gentleman.

"Do you have favourites?" she couldn't help asking.

He groaned and covered his eyes with his palm.

"I'm sure you do," she waggled her eyebrows at him, "That you feel happier when certain ladies make their appearance in your room as compared to the others. Do you instruct the book keeper to slot them in more often? How does that work?"

"Maker's breath," he sighed, "Can we talk about something else?"

"I was wondering - do you  _pay_ her for her services? Managing horny women must be a tedious job."

That earned her a disbelieving snort. "No."

"I mean, she is inexplicably devoted to her task," the Inquisitor was a curious creature, and Cullen's lack of temper gave her enough courage to air her multitude of questions. Once she started, she couldn't bring herself to stop.

"She visits me once a month, instead of the usual two."

Her mouth dropped open, she hadn't actually expected him to answer. _Is she good_ , was on the tip of her tongue but common sense had her refrain. She knew Cullen well enough to know that  _that_ would have crossed the line.

"When those of a certain...rank, wish to ah - service you, do they enjoy a priority queue?"

His golden irises swiveled to her and he grinned, "Like yourself? Enlighten me, my lady. What sort of priority were you afforded?"

She blushed at that, and mumbled, "I may have...pulled rank a little, to shorten the wait."

"How long did you have to wait?" he asked.

"One night," she admitted with an embarrassed cough.

Cullen let out a shock of laughter, and looked at her in both surprise and awe. "That eager, were you?" he drawled, "A record time, I'm sure."

She watched him cast his memory to the night before their first rendezvous, and knew the instant he recalled who had that slot when his face lit up with realization of why she had tolerated a day's delay.

"Yes," he nodded, "Those of a certain rank are favored, as you already know."

"Does she come often?"

Cullen's expression became shuttered, and she knew she had overstepped her boundaries.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to pry," she offered him an apologetic smile. Cullen simply shook his head and brushed it off. She was  _dying_ to ask him if Cassandra and Josephine also frequented him, but that would definitely cause him to kick her out of his bed.

"I'm surprised they do not request for you more often," she noted.

Cullen grunted, and shifted uncomfortably next to her. "Exceptional requests are accommodated...within reason."

The Inquisitor widened her eyes and muttered, "I suppose that every night is out of the question?"

"Yes." Cullen began to turn away from her, no doubt tired of her unending interrogation.

She had to convince him quickly, before she lost his attention completely. "If I were to insist, and you were to accommodate...?" she tilted her head questioningly. At his nod, she continued, "I could have you for a week straight."

Cullen gave her the all-too-familiar devilish smirk and said, "Of course."

"This would be 'within reason'?" She lightly cupped his balls and swiped her palm over the length of his shaft. Cullen's body strained as he lifted his hips to increase the pressure.

His smirk widened and he reached over to roll a pebbled nipple between his skilled fingers. "You're the Inquisitor," he said in a no-nonsense manner. She gasped as her nipples hardened into stiff points.

"Night, and day?" she queried again, knowing she was pushing her luck and that hell may break loose over Skyhold should she try to monopolize him.

"It is not the norm for ladies to sleep over," he admitted, leaning over to suck one of the peaks into his mouth.

"But it does happen?" So that would explain the mussed hair during early morning meetings. She  _knew_ it looked like someone had run their fingers through his locks.

"I've made exceptions for some." His ministrations were becoming more fervent, now. It was harder to think, to speak. Her other nipple was being pinched and tugged at and she feverishly held his head to her breast as he suckled and licked.

"How does one... _qualify_ for this exception?" she panted above him.

Cullen abandoned her breasts abruptly, drawing a whine out of her. His hand cupped the back of her head and he drew her closer to bite gently on her lower lip. "I am at your service, my lady, until you no longer have need for me."

"Cullen, I don't think I'll _ever_  be tired of you," she sighed against him, and deepened their kiss, smoothly wrapping her legs around his hips and sliding her dripping sex along his erection, her body straining to accommodate his full length again.

As she impaled herself all the way down, she grinned with satisfaction. He was  _hers, hers, hers_. Whenever and wherever she wanted. Screw the roster system, the only person who will be able to screw the Commander is the Inquisitor herself.

She rocked against him, purring delightedly at the sensation. Her other questions could wait for another day. It was time to please her Commander again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe.
> 
> Is it distracting if I were to add Cullen's encounters with other ladies? Or should I just stick to his 'interactions' with the Inquisitor?
> 
> I can't decide.
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading, hope you are enjoying this perverted plot as much as I am enjoying writing it. And I hope I do it justice (as I've said before, I'm not a smut writer. This is the first time I'm actually posting anything explicit). So...Constructive Criticism is very welcome.


	4. Four

If there is one thing he loves about the infamous Spymaster, it would have to be her voice. It has been a while since she graced him with her presence, as the Herald demands his company whenever she is in Skyhold.

Melodious, lilting, suggestive and sweet, the jagged edges hidden by her song. Her accent never fails to go straight to his prick, and he is hard and throbbing at once.

She is beneath him without delay, clothes torn off and cast aside without a second glance.

Quick as the rogue that she is, her wet heat envelops him in one smooth slide. Cullen hissed and braces himself above her, biceps flexing with forced control.

He holds himself still as she begins to rock up to meet him. He knows this well - this position, one of her favourites. Leliana likes feeling in control, likes to think of herself as the pawnmaster - pulling and tugging at his puppet strings.

"My handsome Commander," she says, red hair framing her sculpted face, thighs firm and strong around his waist despite retiring from physical warfare years ago, "My beautiful templar," she hums. Her hips move sensuously beneath him, slowly gyrating around him to fuck herself.

Cullen doesn't need to move, merely watches her as she uses his cock to seek her own pleasure.

" _Former_ templar," he grits out. She curves her lips upwards, lids hooded over swirling pools of delight.

"Do you like this?" she taunts, "The closest you will get to fucking an Orlesian?" She couples the question with a sharp swivel, and slides off his cock, leaving only his crown in her.

" _Filth_ ," he grunts. "Never."

She laughs, a tinkling sound, out of sorts with their frantic coupling.

"You will need to mingle with the filth at the ball, Commander, avoiding them is not an option," and Cullen's arms almost gave away as she engulfs him suddenly in one quick jerk of her hips.

He growls low in his throat. Her perfectly manicured hand rests on his finely cut abs, a warning to continue allowing her to set the pace.

It is a quirk of hers, to speak of Inquisition business during their mating sessions. He never understood why, and always forgets to ask after.

Perhaps she aims to catch him off guard, to have him agree with her way of thinking as he is caught up in the throes of guilty passion. She clashes with him verbally in the War Room, but here in his bed, it is a physical fight for dominance.

Cullen bites back a scoff. He has never lost his control with a woman - strength or mind, and never will. Leliana plays a losing game at this.

Tired of her games, Cullen wraps both her slender wrists with one hand, and holds them above her head. He expects her to struggle - a vain attempt at throwing him off as he is so much stronger than her, but she merely smiles and languidly stretches.

He takes control then, slamming into her with abandon. His licks his lips and focuses on her face - gasps and cries escaping the redhead even as she tries to stifle them.

Desire flits across her delicate features, her head falls back as she arches off the bed.

"Do you like _this_ , Nightingale," he teases, muscles straining from the exertion, but does not slow his pace.

"Yes," she sighs, " _Yes_ , you are my templar, my protector, m-my defender..."

She begins to tremble, tingles rushing from her sex to her spine. It itches and it aches and it sparks, the fire flames within her.

"My barbarian, my Ferelden knight!" she cries. Cullen snaps his hips, flesh slaps against flesh. She is wet around him, the sounds they make lewd and loud.

"Your  _Commander_ ," he drawls, voice still steady, his control still present, albeit hanging by a thin thread.

" _Yes, yes!"_ she crests with a wail.

Leliana is a minstrel. She plays him like a harp, nimble fingers and sultry smiles.

She pushes him away when she gets too sensitive, bites her lips as she crawls toward him, swirls her skillful tongue around him and sucks until he spills inside her mouth. Cullen welcomes her silken voice and expert hands.

Sometimes,  _this_ is what he needs. A bard with talents such as hers.

* * *

The Inquisitor returned from Val Royeaux, with a flurry of silk and trinkets. Cullen looked at the gift box she handed to him, and gently placed it on his desk.

She cocked her head, gesturing to it. A silent question as to why he was leaving it unopened.

He laughed, a light and rumbling one that made her toes curl and beckoned her closer. She fell easily into his arms, and melted under his kiss. She had missed his warmth and touch and the graze of his stubble across her lips.

Cullen heaved her over his shoulder, as if she weighed nothing more than a rag doll. He clapped a hand over her pert bottom and lugged her up his ladder. She still couldn't quite understand how he managed that particular feat. She  _had_ been eating quite a lot, thanks to the strenuous activities she had been engaging with him.

Within moments, he was in her, above her and around her. Her hands clutched and grasped at him, the air, the bed, his pillows - whatever was within reach.

As she came to pieces beneath him, a fleeting thought filtered through the haze of passion - did he ever crave the pleasures of other women?

She had somehow managed to convince the scout to sort the roster in such a way that she had her turn every other day. That meant the other women had longer waiting times - did he miss his favourites?

She had enjoyed him in various ways, multiple times since then.Even that had not been enough. She had taken to popping by at odd hours of the day, hiding behind 'inquisition business' in case he was meeting with his lieutenants, to ravish her delectable Commander.

His additional daytime pursuits did not seem to diminish his stamina, however. His nights were still off-limits, and when she wasn't the one creeping into his office, she lay in her own cold bed, wondering who the lucky woman was.

She raked her nails down his back as he pulled out of her, bringing her back to the present. With a smirk, Cullen stood up and lifted her as well, her legs wrapped around his waist automatically.

He entered her again, pushing her hips down as he thrust up with jarring strokes that took her breath away. The feel of him carving up into her was overwhelming. His strength had never been so pronounced as he lifted her up and down his cock, letting her impale herself fully on each down stroke. Her head fell back, all niggling thoughts shoved away. Her entire world was centered on her burning core, slick with her secretions and he rocked her powerfully.

With a final jerk, he shoved himself to the hilt, cramming her full and she wailed as his cum spewed forth, triggering her own climax. Cullen slowly pumped her, emptying himself before finally pulling out, only his tip rested in her shallow depths. She was still contracting around him, her weeping sex nipping at his crown. She found herself aching at the sudden loss of fullness.

He gently laid her back down, lightly penetrating  with his still-hard cock. As usual, his arms curled around her belly, enjoying the tightening of muscles as she continued to spasm.

The clearing of her mind gave way to another worry - was it normal for him to hold them, too, after it was over?

Did he enjoy taking them the same way? Or did he like it rougher? Gentler? Would he like it better if she could swallow all of him?

Did he wake them up with kisses in the morning- those who had the privilege to spend the night?

She exhaled loudly. These thoughts did not belong here. Cullen was explicit regarding his stance on his nightly exploits. No strings attached. Every lady knew it. No one questioned it.

Except her - his leader, his Herald, his Inquisitor. She held some power over him, in a way none of the others did, but could she really wield it in such an abusive manner just to have him to herself? She closed her eyes, anger at her own vulnerability rising up in her chest. Next to her, Cullen's gentle breathing was a contrast to her own inner turmoil.

One question replayed over and over in her mind - could she really be that selfish?

* * *

 

The Inquisitor extracted herself with great difficulty from her handsome lover's arms the next morning. She had a meeting with Leliana to discuss the growing population of nugs in Skyhold, and one does not trifle with the Spymaster's time.

As she rounded the rotunda and caught sight of the chainmail-clad form of her trusted advisor, her heart gave a sickening lurch and halted her in her tracks.

_Oh no._

Looking at the redhead lounging in the shadows, her mind immediately conjured images of Cullen and Leliana tangled under the sheets - long limbs wrapped around each other, pale smooth skin beneath his tanned muscles.

The culminating scene of her moaning Spymaster urging him on in her exotic accent and Cullen finding his release inside of her was spurred on by the knowledge that Leliana had her turn with him a few days ago.

The sudden ache in the depths of her belly had her gasping. The pain felt too real, a physical blow, a stinging blade to her flesh.

There was no denying it anymore. She had begun to think of the Commander as  _min_ _e,_ and no one else's.

The Inquisitor shook her head, trying to clear her mind of such inappropriate thoughts. She had already started feeling guilty over the way she constantly hogged his time.

Through it all, Cullen had been unfailingly patient - an attentive advisor during the day, and a diligent lover during the night, seemingly content to indulge her in this one need of hers.

Still, how could she be foolish enough to fall for him? Yes, he was ever courteous and kind to her. She did not know if she merely imagined it, but he only ever seemed to smile that way at her. A slight crinkle of brows, a sharp quirk of his lips. His eyes were like molten amber when they landed on her each time she looked at him.

He made her feel like the only woman in his world.

Truth be told, she had never seen him with anyone else in the confines of his room. She would not know if that was the way he treated everyone, and the swooning  _girl_ in her warped it into tricking herself it was specially for her.

Her mind raced through the times they spent together - the long walks by the battlements and possessive kisses she stole from him were all orchestrated to bask in his attention, and send a message to the other women who lusted after him.

He had  _never_ initiated anything between them. She had always done the chasing - showing up in his room night after night, stopping by to 'borrow him for a moment' under the pretense of Inquisition business day after day.

He had rules in place to discourage this exact scenario, and she had blatantly flouted them with her rank and pull over him.

Her heart sank. This was going to be a problem.

This bothersome feeling had crept up on her, too slowly but surely, and she failed to recognize it for what it was.

All she had done was take, take and take from him, and all she had to offer in return was a love he neither asked for nor wanted.

If he even had an  _inkling_ of this sudden development, he would bolt like a nug and never welcome her back in his bed.

And that would _break_ her.

Leliana turned, and the Inquisitor cleared her throat guiltily. Her short digression into the realms of her troubled heart made it seem like she had been spying on her.

She smiled apologetically, "My thoughts ran away from me."

The knowing glint in Leliana's deep set eyes would have troubled her had she caught sight of it, but the Inquisitor was busy trying to convince herself that the upcoming journey to Crestwood would be a welcome distraction. Maybe, away from him, she would be able to think clearly and talk some sense into herself.

She could not bear to think of the alternative.

Leliana clasped her hands behind her back. The Inquisitor perked up at once. She  _knew_ that stance, she'd  _seen_ it many times before, always preceding the utter destruction of the poor soul on the receiving end of her interrogation.

_Shit._

Her voice as innocent, sweet, deceiving. "Thinking of our dear Cullen?"

The Inquisitor bristled at that.  _Mine. Not 'our', mine._

An insufferable smirk lit up her pretty face. Ooh, she was good. Leliana knew just the  _right_ spots to hit. And she had been unprepared enough to be caught off guard.

_Hell and damnation._ Stubbornly, she rearranged her features to remain impassive and said nothing.

A small sigh followed the silence, a tiny glimpse into the Spymaster's affected patience. A puff of mist curled before her pink, pouty lips. The Inquisitor narrowed her eyes.

"I know what you are trying to do. You want to monopolize him, to take him off the market,"Leliana said, with an arched eyebrow.

The Inquisitor was not stupid enough to try to deny it. No one lied to the Spymaster and got away with it.

"He doesn't seem to be complaining. Unless you think he is foolish enough not to know what I am doing." She could not hide the scorn in her voice, jealousy and annoyance at being ambushed stirring up the monster within her. Immediately after she heard her own accusatory tones, she flinched.

_Oh this was going swimmingly well. Make an enemy of the most formidable woman on this side of Thedas. When did that seem like such a good idea?_

Surprisingly, Leliana ignored her scathing remark. "No, he isn't, the Commander is many things at once, but never foolish," she agreed wistfully, and the Inquisitor was certain that Leliana was recalling and missing his dexterity in bed at that moment.

She sighed again, and twirled a crimson tendril of hair that escaped her hood with a delicate finger. It looked like freshly drawn blood against the pale white of her skin. "I hope you know what you are doing, Inquisitor. The Commander is not known for romance, whatever else his dashing good looks may imply."

"I'm not looking for romance," she immediately replied, tearing her gaze away Leliana's hand. Even as she said it, she knew it to be the biggest lie.

As expected, Leliana did not seem fooled, not for a moment. The pitying look that she bestowed upon her spoke volumes.

The Inquisitor hurried averted her eyes, not willing to see anymore, and swallowed hard to quell the sadness that welled up inside her.

Her friend - for she had come to think of Leliana that way, in spite of her irrational jealousy and suspicions, softly said, "Do not worry, Inquisitor. You are not the first woman to fall, and you will not be the last. I know too well how alluring he can be."

And she knew that Leliana was not referencing wealth or status, but instead the inner beauty and strength, absolute devotion and principles that he possessed. Any woman would be lucky to have even a little bit of him. She supposed that, in a twisted way, they were both blessed to have something of him.

She cleared her throat uneasily, not willing to accept her pity, but not daring to reject it at the same time.

"Well..." she shrugged.

And left it at that.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Did not have time to proofread, in a rush, apologies for mistakes in advance and thanks for reading!

The Inquisitor, being a creature of habit - and it _had_ become a habit to surprise her Commander upon her return, flew into his office without knocking.

And caught him red-handed, breeches down, his muscles flexing beautifully as he rutted - balls deep in a still-clothed female who was shuddering, moaning and panting heavily from her most recent climax, on his work desk.

As the door slammed against the wall, Cullen withdrew from the depths of the woman's canals with a wet plop. The Inquisitor winced when she saw the woman beneath him sink her nails into his back, pulling him closer while wailing at the sudden emptiness of her pulsing cunt.

The Inquisitor felt sick when she saw that his lover's breasts had spilled out from her half-buttoned top, plump and round and creamy and marked red with the scruff of his beard.

"Oh  _fuck_ ," the woman cursed, thighs trembling and torso jerking from her climax, when Cullen shifted to reveal a livid Inquisitor at the door.

With a sinking heart, she realized that she actually did recognize her. The offending lady in question was a fairly veteran templar, close to her own age, and joined the Inquisition at the same time Cullen did. That meant that this would not have been her first sojourn with him.

The familiar aching jealousy burst in her heart, and she could not withhold a snarl.

The templar paled as the Inquisitor's lips curled back in distate, and pushed herself off Cullen's desk, nearly falling to the floor as her legs failed to work after her orgasm.

Cullen caught her without a thought, frowning at the displeasure on the Inquisitor's face. His skin was still flushed with beads of perspiration. He seemed slightly disoriented by the sudden shift in circumstance.

The templar hastily scrabbled to pull up her pants, her bosom hung low and heavy, still heaving from what the Inquisitor was certain would have been an absolutely vigorous workout under her commanding officer. With a slight bow of her head, not quite meeting her eyes, the templar made a quick , if slightly wobbly, retreat from the opposite exit.

Cullen stood facing her, a picture of bewilderment with his breeches still unlaced around his knees, cock glistening and jutting proudly at her.

A flash of anger, and then she was lashing out at him.

"A subordinate, Cullen? I expected so much more from you," she seethed, wrath and hurt colliding within her.

Bewilderment gave way to incredulity. "I beg your pardon?"

On any other man, the image of him caught with his pants down should have been hilarious. But Cullen radiated with barely suppressed anger at her accusation, appearing even larger and broader before her, and the sight of him still standing at attention- long, thick, heavy and still wet with the other woman's juices made it difficult for her to think.

She felt angry, betrayed and aroused all at once.

"Fraternization below your rank, Commander? Isn't that a little desperate of you?"

He scoffed at her, indignation and rage at her words chasing away all remnants of her well-mannered ex-templar. "Lysette is well aware of how I work, _Inquisitor_." He spat her title out with a steely edge.

Not ' _my lady_ ', or ' _sweetling_ ' or ' _Herald_ ' in that sweet, reverent way he usually reserved for her.

She clenched her fist. "In pure daylight! With your doors unlocked! What were you  _thinking?_ "

"People usually  _knock_ ," he snapped back at her, "And if you weren't so emotionally involved, you would not have a problem with this."

He _knew._ Shame had her flushing hot and cold at once, rousing the simmering anger below the surface. He  _knew!_ And that infuriating man actually dared to callously throw her feelings for him right back at her face. She trembled with a sudden urge to resort to violence and heave something at his head.

"I - you-" An internal war raged within her. Coiling heat in her belly overwhelmed the crimson anger in her mind. She was being torn apart by her conflicting feelings and the way Cullen was looking at her - all handsome and scowling and powerful, was of no help  _whatsoever_.

"This discussion is  _not_ over!" she yelled, giving in as something tight snapped between her thighs. She strode up to him and firmly planted her lips on his.

Three weeks of riding across Thedas had her  _burning_ for him. The final nights camped so close to Skyhold were pure torture, and she had been snappish and moody towards the end. All ideals of  _love_ and  _feelings_ were cast aside for her carnal needs. Passion broke over her in waves and waves of agony.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged forcefully. This elicited a growl from him and he began to tear at her buttons. "Maker, you smell so good," he groaned into her ear, trailing wet kisses along the fair column of her neck.

"Cullen," she breathed and with another urgent tug, she slanted her lips against his again in desperation. "Cullen, I've missed this...missed  _you. Please,_ " she whined, her hips started a rhythmic grind against him, the feel of his rigid, hard cock pressing into her a delicious temptation.

He was quick to oblige, stripping her until she was down to her breast band and smalls. His lips left her jaw and blazed trails of heat along her collarbone, seared her skin through the cotton of her smallclothes, moving down to her belly. Every nerve in her ached for his touch, as he knelt before her - almost as if he was offering his supplication.

His large hands settled on the small of her back as his teeth worried the top of her thighs. She gasped, her sensitized skin tingled with need. When he finally placed his searing tongue on her center, she keened embarrassingly loud as her legs gave way beneath her.

Cullen held her up, lapping away at the slick folds. Her whole weight was on him, pressing her core as close as she could to his talented mouth.

He teased and tugged and pulled and sucked at her little nub, and all she managed to say was " _fuck, fuck, fuck"_ because it was too good and she was about to come apart at the seams and -

-And floating right beneath the cloud of lust was the fact that his shaft was still coated with another woman's cream, who he had fucked into a mind-blowing climax just moments ago.

"Ugh, no. Stop." She shoved him away, fighting with her physical need with every ounce of willpower she had left. "A bath for you first, I think," she said, pointing at his impressive length.

Cullen frowned and looked down, groaning at the delay. He grasped himself with one hand and gave his length a quick stroke, the  _schlick_ sound that it made almost had her giving in.

But before she could reach out and pull him back, he was moving away from her, quick as lightning, and lacing up his breeches. "I expect to see you on my bed, with  _nothing_ on, the moment I return, Inquisitor." His voice was a deep growl. She gave an involuntary moan.

He left his office with long strides, leaving her in a weakened state, leaning against his desk.

Oh, his voice held such  _promise_ that she quaked in her boots - his fingers in her, his weight on her, moving above her, she could barely stand at the deluge of recollection.

" _Fuck_ ," she gasped into thin air, as the door swung close behind him.

* * *

 When he reappeared, she had obediently heeded his order and added her own twist to it. Cullen was greeted with the sight of her on her knees with her pert arse facing the ladder.

The quick inhalation that escaped him was not lost on her and she waved her bum back and forth to urge him to hurry.

Cullen's hands were on her hips in an instant, and his fingers quickly found purchase between her legs. "You're  _soaked_."

"Now, please. I can't -"

She cried out in pleasure as he aligned his tip with her sex and inched his way in. His girth always meant that he had to take it slow, but today, his entry met little resistance and he cursed under his breath.

"So wet, my lady," he breathed above her, "For me."

"Yes, yes! Cullen, move  _faster_."

He obliged and began thrusting deep and hard into her. Her spine bowed as she pushed back to meet each delicious stroke. The linen beneath her stimulated her already peaked nipples. She bit her lips to contain the screams but her control cruelly abandoned her as ecstasy consumed every inch of her. Her toes began to tingle, the shock vibrated from her pussy to her belly to her chest and her brain felt like it would explode.

"Fuck, Cullen, I forgot how big you are. So good," she panted, "You feel so good."

His hand palmed her breast and he squeezed, moaning her name again and again. She lifted herself up and held on to his headboard, better leverage for the angle they both desired.

The tip of his cock hit her at the  _right_ spot and her voice left her. She could only gasp wordlessly as her world shook all around her.

With a quick, expert flick of her nipple, and a slight pressure on her nub, she came with a soundless scream.

"Oh fuck Cullen," she heaved, once she regained the use of her vocal chords. She had been so caught up in her own release, that she wasn't sure if...

No, wait. There it was. The tell-tale trickle down her thighs. He efficiently swiped it off with the handy towel he kept by his bedside, and then collapsed beside her.

"Did I hurt you?" was his first question after they caught their breath.

"No," she was quick to assure him. "That was...amazing."

"Sex after a fight always is," he said.

"I did not take the potion," she remembered, still feeling to boneless and sated to move.

He lazily opened an eye to look at her. With a lump in her throat, she wondered if he was this lax with the other women. What if one of them turned up one day, with a babe in her arms? Cullen was a responsible, primal, traditional man. He would marry her, and that would be the end of them.

Then again, 'them' only existed in her head.

"Don't worry, it's safe," she said, sounding bitterer than she wanted to.

He closed his eye again, and hummed. "I trust you. If it were anyone else..."

He did not bother to finish his sentence. His admission made her feel slightly better but the nonchalant acknowledgement of the existence of other women who warmed his bed while she wasn't around plagued her.

She sat up slowly, pulling the sheets under her chin, and frowned at him. "How do I compare...to them, the other ladies?" she asked, determinedly punctuating the lazy silence.

"What?" he asked, still awash in the after glow and not fully alert. "Do you still need to ask that, Herald? Was just now not demonstration enough?"

She cleared her throat and tried again, with a small, timid voice, "Am I on par with the others, Cullen?"

That made his snicker trail off and gave him pause. He propped himself up on his elbows warily to bring his gaze level with hers.

She was a furious whirlwind on the battlefield, and chillingly stern in the political arena. But here, in his bed, wrapped in his blanket and scent, she was far from being in control, and  _looked_  adorably vulnerable.

"Sweetling, you mustn't compare," he said, tender and cajoling.

"That tells me all I need to know," her voice was hushed, but if she had given in to the turmoil of emotions swirling in her, it would have been a wail of horror.

"Some of them...were  _experienced_ ," he said, and then quickly backtracked when her eyes widened, "It's different. That does not mean I like them more than-"

A sob had escaped her, and she stuffed a fist to her mouth in despair.

"No, no! Oh Maker, I'm just making things worse." The bed sunk beneath his weight as he shifted closer to her. She felt his large hand envelope hers and reluctantly allowed him to draw her fist away from her clenched teeth.

"I...I care for you, in ways that I've never felt for anyone else," he said earnestly. She turned her teary eyes to him and choked her sobs down. He reached up to wipe her tears away and sighed, "I don't like seeing you cry. It makes me hurt-" he made a fist and placed it over his heart, "-right here. They..the others don't mean anything. You know how it works."

"We started out like that too."

"That was..." he shook his head and tried again, "You are different. From the others. A g _ood_  kind of different."

Well,  _obviously_ she was different. She was probably his only conquest who demanded that he spend more time with her, accused him of being unprofessional, attacked him into bed in a fit of passion, and then ended up crying all over his sheets in the same day.

"Good enough that you might stop seeking your pleasure else where?" her words came out in a rush. She had not meant to ask, to  _trap_ him into a commitment. Leliana's warning was still fresh in her mind.

Cullen withdrew his hands from her and rubbed his jaw as he thought about it. In the bright daylight, he looked exhausted and drained, and she felt guilty for heaping even more on him in addition to the newest slate of issues they now faced for the upcoming masquerade in Orlais.

He remained silent, and with her heart in her mouth, she began to fill the silence with her own chatter. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to lash out at you like that. I was just surprised. I mean, I've seen women approaching the book keeper, still. I _knew_ you never stopped seeing other women, when I am away in the field, or unavailable due to personal issues...I never dared to harbour hopes that, you know... and your tower is visible from the ramparts. Sometimes, when your light is on, I wonder if you are working, or entertaining, or both. Cullen, it hurts. It did not matter as much when it was just a 'what-if', a suspicion. But now," she shrugged helplessly, "it feels like my heart has been torn out."

He sighed heavily, and her name escaped from his lips pleadingly.

"Enough," he almost begged, his voice coming out in rasps, "I _never_ promised you anything. I do not know what will happen next, if we will even  _survive_. How can I-" his voice cracked and he ran his fingers through his golden locks in frustration.

"I know," she said softly, "I don't expect anything from you. You mean  _a lot_ to me, and-"  _and I should stop giving you reasons to shut me out in a panic._ She leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I can't help being jealous, Cullen." She said it gingerly, hoping it would not cause him to end things between them right there and then.

He nodded, and the conflicting emotions that flickered across his face had her holding her breath in fear.

"If you knew what was good for you, you would flee, and find a man worthy of yourself." he said.

"It's not another man that I want. And what I want, I shall have," she said lightly, meaning it as a joke, but a slight tremor in her voice betrayed her fear.

"You think too highly of me. Even with the lyrium, the torture, what I have been through -"

"I think so highly of you  _especially_ because of all those things." She smoothed his hair back and stared deeply into his lovely eyes. "I do not dare to presume that I am enough for you, and I am away from Skyhold so often-"

At this, Cullen chuckled. "I'm not an insatiable beast, my lady. I can take care of myself for a few weeks." He placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles and said, "I cannot promise you much, but I will give this - what you asked - some thought."

His warning tone made her smile. He was so endearing, afraid to disappoint her yet unable to love her the way she needed him to.

The Inquisitor felt her heart flutter. That simple promise he made meant so much. He would not promise her love, or marriage, or children, but that dream was so far from reality as she dealt with her own mortality every day, as long as the Elder One lived.

So it would be enough, for now.

"Thank you," she whispered into his chest.

No more words could express the relief and gratitude she felt, so she wrapped her arms around him as best as she could and kissed him soundly on the lips.

"Thank you, Cullen."


End file.
